“Suck my cock.”
A smile split her face and her eyes glittered in triumph, but then: he was gone. The cock she’d been toying with disappeared into her mouth, and hot, wet damnation surrounded him from all sides.
The things. The things she did to him with that tongue, those teeth. And holy God, when she pulled him completely into her throat! Why? Why was this forbidden to him?
But he knew exactly why. If this pleasure was readily available, who would do anything else? Who would care about other people before himself?
She was kneading at his balls now as she suckled, and her other hand worked in tandem with her mouth. David wanted desperately to touch her, to tangle his fingers in her hair, but it seemed he would break some spell if he did. There were small, feminine sounds of approval humming from her throat straight through to his core.
Oh yes. Oh yes! Just like … just like that! Yesyesyes!
There was no way. It was going to happen. No time to stop it and he was going to —
“Rrrghh! Sera-AH! No! Fuck! Yes!”
David’s mind and body warred and his hips gave a rough jerk at each conflicting cry that growled from his throat. The unstoppable surges of white light burst from the tip of his cock in jets of seed, and the determined woman between his knees claimed it all, swallowing his joy, his defeat, accepting his sin in a way the church never would.
Serah wanted it, wanted him, and seemed to take her own delight in his pleasure. How was he ever going to return to the way things had been, after having known this?
He slid from her lips, spent, chest heaving and brow damp, and gazed down at her with heavy lidded eyes. The smile she gave him now was oddly genuine; not smug or mischievous as her earlier grins had been. With a final kiss to the head of his flagging cock, she tucked him away, righting his underwear and fastening his trousers.
In a sudden, strange gesture of tenderness, she came off her heels and slid her upper body against his, pinning him in a warm embrace. He didn’t know what else to do, so he slid his arms tentatively around her waist. David felt her face nuzzling under his jaw, leaving him with a series of light kisses.
Then, as fast as she’d started the strange bit of intimacy, she was pulling away, grabbing up her discarded blouse, doing up buttons. She scooped up something from the floor and turned, handing him back his collar insert. David took it, staring at her in a haze.
Serah leaned down again, resting a hand on his shoulder, and brushed a feather of a kiss over his lips.
“Until next time, lover.”
The narrow door cracked open just long enough for her to slip out.
In the silence, blood rushed in his ears. The bliss descended around him like a warm blanket, and all his muscles felt deliciously limp.
He’d never felt anything so good. So perfect.
It was all horribly, totally wrong.
What have you done, David? What have you done?
Two weeks and one day.
That was as long as David Kent had lasted. He’d tried and tried. Said dozens — scores! — of prayers, done penance until his mind went numb. But seeking forgiveness wasn’t enough. The thoughts were in his head, day and night, and nothing he did would drive them out.
On the fifteenth morning after his ordeal in the confessional, he broke down. There’d been a dream. Red hair and green eyes looked up at him, mouth full as it had been that night. He woke up painfully aroused, and not the normal sort of morning erection that showed up just to stop him from urinating in his sleep. Before he could reason with himself, his hands were beneath the sheets, a fox in the proverbial hen house. And of course his cock was entirely complicit, not helping him out at all.
His hand was no warm, wet mouth, but as soon as he heard her in his head again, asking Do you want me to suck your cock? he went off like a rocket. Her name growled out of his throat and then he had a mess on his hands.
That was the first time. After that he made it only another week.
To make things worse, she was now sporadically attending Mass. She would sit somewhere different every time, but he always knew when she was there. There appeared to be no pattern, no way to discern when she would show up. Some days she would simply appear, though he never saw her afterward, and she never came up to take communion. By then she was always mysteriously gone.
One Sunday, during the homily, he caught her out of the corner of his eye from where he stood in the pulpit. As he spoke, in some ridiculous, blatant, caricature of seduction, she had the nerve to make eye contact, unwrap a lollipop, and put it in her mouth. It was so awful. Such a cliché. And it didn’t matter.
David couldn’t get back to his room in the rectory fast enough that afternoon. It wasn’t enough. Thoughts of her on her knees, or worse, his own face buried between her thighs — hadn’t that been a revelation? — were only the beginning. The dam was long past crumbling. If she ever came to him again, as she’d done that night, there was more he wanted.
He lay in his bed in the dark, shamefully spent once again.
What would it feel like? To be inside a woman?
David, you’ve got to stop. You have one job. OK, you have a lot of jobs, but this is one of them and you’re failing at it.
But who could walk around with an erection half the time? When Serah had stumbled into the church that first night, and when those big eyes of hers fixed on his, almost in apology, and she’d kissed him … It was as if she knew. Knew where the fuse was that he not only didn’t want to light, but wanted to ignore completely. And, if not that night then surely in the confessional, it had been dipped in kerosene and passed through a bonfire.
He shifted in the bed to curl up on his side, his body a knot of frustration.
This is part of the test. You knew this wouldn’t be easy.
But this hard? At two or three times a week, wasn’t the frequency of his sin enough now that he should just admit defeat?
And why did she call him ‘lover’? Throw her arms around him and hold him when they’d parted? So many questions, but he still held out for answers. The words she’d left him with loomed like a threat and a promise both, and he was terrified and eager to have them fulfilled.
Until next time.
Sleep was a long time in coming.
Serah was impressed at how long he’d managed to hold out. Two weeks was some stretch of time considering how she’d left him. But watching David Kent struggle from the other side of the veil had been a reward in itself. The first time he gave up control, and every time after, she was there, unseen, to witness the first throes of his turning. The whole affair was progressing as it should.
Otherworldly tests aside, it was simply a thrill to watch him. Her priest was quite attractive, his body firm and fit, bunching and tensing in all the right places when he gave in and pleasured himself. Serah would do the same, unseen, each time as she looked on, riding a new high whenever her name would pass his lips in his moment of climax.
There were signs of trouble, however. Her slipping into mass on occasion was ostensibly part of the plan to keep him unsettled, but Serah was beginning to have her own doubts. A nagging part of her suggested she was only going because she wanted to see him. It more than nagged. It harangued. Didn’t it feel good to be held, even for just a moment, in the confessional? How long had it been since someone had simply enjoyed her presence and touched her with any semblance of care?
Don’t be pathetic. You outgrew that shit ages ago. You’re going to disappoint The Fallen over a fucking hug?
Yet there was something about this man … It was far easier to spy on him masturbating, stroking that gorgeous cock of his, and tally up points toward her victory, than it was to think of him as a human being with feelings. And so far tonight seemed like it she would have no easy time of it, though Serah hoped by observation to glean as much leverage as she could that might help her in her challenge.
He was in his office at St Luke’s, tapping away on the keyboard of an outdated laptop. A desk la
mp chased the late twilight out of the room and he leaned down, squinting at the screen.
She hovered over his shoulder on the other side of the veil. He wouldn’t be able to sense her presence, but even here she swore she could almost smell him: warm, masculine, magnetic.
Oh, the next time we meet, Priest, so help me …
He opened a drawer in the desk and brought out something small and flat which he then flipped open on the desk. A checkbook. She watched him take a pen from the cup on the desk top and being to fill out a check. If she’d been on the same plane as him at the moment, he would’ve been able to hear her breathe, she leaned so close.
As his hand moved out of the way, she read the name scrawled there: St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital.
Well that seemed in character for a priest — donating to a hospital. Then she saw the amount and promptly swore. There was no way the church paid him that much money.
He signed the check and laid it aside, moving to fish through a stack of opened mail. A red envelope jutted from the pile and he plucked it out, sliding its contents into his hand. It was some sort of greeting card, the front cover showing some cartoonish representation of Noah’s ark. The priest opened it and a wallet-sized picture fell out. He put the card down, lying open, and took up the picture, staring at it for a long moment before dropping his head into his hands.
The tiny image had fallen to the desk to lay atop the card. A little girl of about ten looked back from the picture. She was bald with dark circles under her eyes, but clutching a purple stuffed hippo with a huge grin on her face. Serah’s eyes flitted to the card. It was signed off in blocky, childish script. “Thank you Uncle David.”
So. It stood to reason the man could have nieces and nephews. He could have siblings. And not everyone in his family had to be a priest.
But the check? She glanced back to it now, as her mark massaged at the back of his own neck with a tired hand. The check lay next to an envelope and some sort of official-looking letterhead. Upon closer inspection, Serah saw it was a bill. From St. Jude’s. For an eye-popping amount. What could cost so much?
Oh.
Bald little girl. Thank you card. Vertigo-inducing hospital bills. This was no random charitable donation. The man had a niece with cancer. And he was keeping her in treatment.
Fuck.
Serah could have laughed if she didn’t feel like the rug had just been yanked out from under her. She’d honestly thought this would be easy. The Fallen had given her some newly minted priest, a veritable powder keg of lust waiting to be ignited. A virgin, for fuck’s sakes! She should have been able to turn him with one hand tied behind her back and a smirk on her face, and kick his whimpering, lust-riddled carcass across the finish line like it was nothing: a trophy for the Great One.
You should have known better. You won’t be granted immortality that easily. Of course they’re going to test you, Serah. It just took you this long to realize it’s really a test and not just a formality.
The priest was at the laptop again, bringing up financial software. He entered the check in the register on the computer and she noted his balance.
$6.02.
Holy shit.
If things worked that way on her side of the veil, Serah would have needed a chair so she could collapse onto it. That check was all he had. And the balance on that bill told her he’d be cutting more just like it for a long time.
Was this what she was meant to do? Her actions here were only meant to ruin one person’s life. No one had brought up sick children. And what about the girl’s mother? How would she be affected?
Serah began to pull away, loosening her grip on that particular point in space and time, and the priest shut down the laptop and shoved himself away from the desk, stretching as he stood. He picked up a couple of books and a half-finished bottle of water and turned out the light, heading for the door.
None of this needed to be her problem. Her job was to get him to break his vows. Get his dick hard and have him turn so she could claim her prize. On that direct front, it seemed she was succeeding. But would he even be considered turned if he still did things like what she just saw? Could there be room for him to continue with selfless acts of any kind, or did she have to corrupt him completely?
Her priest stepped out of his office and she didn’t bother to follow him. Instead she let the comfort of the Darkness surround her, and slipped back into easier thoughts of their lips pressed together, his moans as she worked his flesh.
Yes. That was how she’d win this. Focus on what she’d already accomplished, with an eye for what still needed to be done.
The next time she met David Kent in person would be the last time he was sane. With as long as she’d left him alone he’d be right on the edge, teetering, and all she would need to do would be to push him over it.
Serah only needed to not fall with him.
She found her priest kneeling in prayer. Not at the main altar, but at a smaller one dedicated to the Virgin on the east side of the church. The last of the day’s sunlight glittered through the colorful glass of the windows at her back, illuminating saint after saint as she approached him. Anticipation danced and spun in her belly, and lower.
Six weeks she’d drawn out his torture. Forty-two days, eleven of which saw him giving in to temptation, one day twice. It had almost always been in his room in the rectory, but there was one afternoon his idle hands did that most notorious of work in his office while he lay back on the couch. That had been an especially delicious episode to watch, with the way he massaged his stiff prick through his trousers first, giving in and finally savoring the experience instead of cringing and rushing through it.
Serah was hoping that interlude, which had been his most recent, would set the stage for this evening’s game of cat and mouse, but she’d have to be on her toes. Her ability to come and go from one side of the veil to the other only permitted her to watch him in secret and make her own inferences. The reading of mortal thoughts was a gift granted only to those who had passed the very trial she was undergoing now. There was no true way for her to know exactly what his intentions or attitudes were, other than what she had seen with her own eyes.
You will not fail in this, Serah. You will not.
She pulled back her shoulders, straightened her back, and shook her hair out into a copper mane. David Kent belonged to her. He just didn’t know it yet.
Her next step in his direction she took with less care, letting her heel click on the stone floor. Serah stood perhaps a dozen feet behind the kneeling priest. At the next shuffle of her foot he started, whirling to face her. The blend of expressions that flashed over his face had her holding back her own array of matching reactions.
Surprise, of course, widened his brown eyes as he realized he was not alone. Relief cleared the lines from his forehead when he saw it was her. Then something bigger welled up, something she couldn’t place, though it seemed to swell him through the shoulders and chest as he stood That, whatever it was, was replaced by something she did know. Lust. His jaw set and that familiar spark flickered in his gaze. He took a step in her direction.
“Serah.”
Her name came as though his throat was dry, and he closed the gap between them in two strides, eyes scorching down into hers. She stepped into his challenge, instantly alert, aroused, but she kept her hands to herself for the moment.
“David.” She returned his greeting in kind, tilting her face up to his.
For a few seconds he simply pinned her in place with the intensity of his stare, seething where he stood. Serah felt that if she touched him, his skin would be tight and hot, about to burst.
The priest broke the spell, glancing hurriedly around the church behind them. There would most definitely be a scandal on his hands if they were seen this way. Some decision made, he grabbed up her right hand in his left and set off across the nave at a purposeful pace, dragging her along behind.
This could either be a home run or a complete disaster, the w
ay he’s acting right now.
Serah held tight to the hand, determined to make the best of it.
He hauled them between pews, across the aisles, and her legs worked to avoid stumbling in her impractical shoes. They were heels designed to lead the eye up a calf, lift buttocks enticingly as they altered her posture, not scurry between narrow wooden benches in a hurry.
The two of them burst into a hallway which ran alongside the western wall of the nave and, without slowing, the priest threw open a door on the opposite side and tugged her behind him into a smaller space. Serah had only a moment to recognize the room: it was his office.
The man who was supposed to be taking direction from her, slammed the door shut behind them and locked it in a fluid motion, pulling Serah between him and the solid wood. For the briefest moment she was thrown off balance. She knew the look in his eyes, the flavor of his stance.
Predator.
He trapped her body with his, palms bracing against the door behind her. His eyes were fierce, but there was more. He was frightened.
“Serah,” he rasped, gaze searching, “what have you done to me?”
She began to open her mouth to respond, but there was no time. He descended on her in the first kiss of his own taking. Serah saw her own advantage here and relaxed into it, bringing her hands up to his waist. If he was the aggressor this would all fall together that much faster.
A tilt of his head had him pressing in to devour, and she parted her lips, accepting the first greedy push of his tongue into her mouth. One of his hands moved to the side of her neck, and a thumb grazed absently over her throat as he was finally able to have a taste of what had been withheld these past weeks.
The passion, the urgency pouring from her priest was overwhelming, far beyond what she’d expected.
What had this man been fantasizing about?
And now his hips were grinding into hers, the hard length of him nearly bruising her mound through the intervening fabric. She came very close to losing herself, forgetting her task in the lure, the very pulse of being wanted so badly. Fortunately the man was mortal and had to come up for air.
The Darker Side of Love (A Dark Erotica Boxed Set) Page 27